


The Heart Wants

by Behind_The_Hood



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arachne - Freeform, Arachne!Damen, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Bonding, I Know the Fae Hate Iron, I Politely Ignore This, Loss of Virginity, Loss of Wings, M/M, Mating, Mating Rituals, Pixie!Laurent, Pixies, Semi-Graphic Violence?, Slow Burn, Soul Mating (Not to Be Mistaken as Soulmate), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Behind_The_Hood/pseuds/Behind_The_Hood
Summary: When Laurent wakes up, he’s lying on a bed of dry leaves that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there the night before, but he can’t be positive. He had been nearly delirious with pain and can even now only think of the acute ache in his back, starting at his shoulder blades and slicing up and down his spine.Because his wings are gone. And he’ll never fly again.





	The Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> So, to start, I put a lot of effort into getting whatever information I could about Pixies, and some were solid "facts," but most things varied person to person and were open to interpretation, which is what I did. But also, I spend a very long time trying to figure out how Arachne worked, how wolf spiders worked, and how I wanted to mesh a wolf spider and Damen together. There are still some questions I don't have answered. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Laurent is humming a song his mother used to sing to lull him to sleep as he takes a chunk of hair and crosses it over the others, then repeats the process, his wings fluttering fast with the effort. He feels at peace when he does this. Coming to the beach to see the herd of horses that live near here and braid their hair. They don’t trust his human sized form, so he stays small, even if he exerts more energy to braid their hair at this size. Usually the braids end up a tangled mess, but the horses seem pleased enough to simply be in his presence.

The mare he’s currently working on tenses up suddenly and trots away from him, the cords of mane slipping from Laurent’s arms. Laurent wants to protest but the other horses around are flicking their ears and stomping in the sand. They’re nervous. Laurent can’t imagine why.

Then he hears it.

There’s a thumping noise coming from the trees some distance away from the shore. It comes in quick, short bursts then repeats itself.

Laurent’s never heard the sound before, but he’s also never been this far down the beach before either; he’s two full day’s flight farther than he usually ventures from his guards and farther still from how far they will usually travel from the Pixie kingdom.

The thumping starts again, closer now, and the horses all take off down the beach, away from whatever is making the noise. Maybe it’s humans? These horses have always seemed more skittish around them than the generation before.

Laurent is curious.

He ventures towards the forest and hesitates before entering. It's growing dark out and Auguste will be expecting him back soon. These trees also seem too closely packed for humans to risk entering. What they would call an “enchanted” forest. Only children are brave enough to come into a forest such as this.

Then he hears the thumping again.

Laurent is too intrigued to simply let this lie, so he goes in and hopes the white light he puts off will be enough to guide his way.

The thudding has gotten farther away than before, so he knows it’s moving, quicker than he is. This perturbs him. Laurent takes a determined breath and forces himself to fly faster, even at the risk of getting a little lost. As long as he stays close enough to the outer reaches of the forest to hear the ocean, he’ll be able to find his way home.

Laurent swerves around trees and passed creatures heading to bed for the night, others waking to start their day. He’s getting closer to the thudding.

Laurent’s wings ache where they meld from his back, so he flutters to the ground and sits, resting against a tree for a moment to catch his breath and relax his aching muscles. The forest around him which had started out fairly dense has thinned out, making room for the larger creatures that reside here. It’s also growing colder out, but the breeze from the beach doesn’t feel the same as this does, this wind doesn’t carry salt and sand or the smell of the sea.

Laurent looks up and cannot see the moon and stars passed the canopy of leaves and branches over his head.

The thumping has stopped.

Laurent stomps his foot into the ground and decides to head home and leave this mystery for someone else to solve.

Laurent looks at his surrounds and feels a trickle of panic. He hates being small for times like this, when his emotions hit fast and become all-consuming in his small body. Relief floods him soon enough though when he recognizes a wounded tree he had passed not long ago.

That way then.

Laurent lifts off the ground and begins the journey back to the beach.

He doesn’t make it passed the wounded tree before something shiny catches his eye. It shines white like silver. Laurent wishes he had brought his satchel with him now; if he had known he was going to come across a shiny, he would have. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to take it home with him anyway.

The closer Laurent gets to the shiny, the more of them there seems to be, and he feels giddy with the discovery.

Except…those aren’t shinies!

Laurent gasps as furry, clawed hands clap around his small form. They pinch his wings from the poor angle and fear takes over his other senses. He needs to leave. He needs to escape. Laurent grows as quickly as he can, forcing the hands around him to release their hold.

He turns to fly away but is quickly tackled to the forest floor before he can even lift his feet from the ground. The big, heavy body on top of him roughly turns him onto his back, and pain burns up his spine and through his shoulders like nothing he’s ever experienced. It’s crippling.

His wings.

A poorly spared glance over shows one of his wings, still partly under him, translucent save for the trim and a few veins of white, but the wing is slowly losing its shine, losing its firmness in favor of taking the shape of the ground and everything below it, then turning to ash. To the Dust…it’s _gone_ …

He quickly looks back up to the immediate threat. The face over his own is covered in fur, with fangs framing a large mouth and too many eyes glaring at him. Arachne. Big, dangerous Arachne. Laurent can barely breathe past the blinding pain he’s in to stop the Arachne from holding down his body as it begins to make silk to wrap him up in, feet first.

Before the silk can reach higher than his calves, another giant Arachne tackles the one above Laurent, jostling him. He cries out. Laurent thinks of getting away while they’re both distracted with each other, but he can’t make his hands stop shaking, can’t tense his muscles to roll over without feeling nauseous, his skin burning, the wet on his back spreading.

He’s bleeding.

He didn’t even know he could bleed from the nubs where his wings start.

Laurent lies vulnerable on the cold forest floor, tears slipping down his face, and wishing he could stop shaking because it’s only making the pain worse, making him tense more and strain the wounds.

The tussling beside him has stopped and now he hears quick clicks shared between the two Arachne. The one with longer hair on its head, the one who had first attacked Laurent, runs off.

Laurent is left alone with the victor.

He just hopes that this will end quickly, so he doesn’t have to live with this pain for much longer. Laurent is lifted slowly into the arms the stronger of the two Arachne and is carried off. He can’t feel his other wing, and he knows it shared the same fate as the one he watched turn to dust.

The arms holding him are covered in fur, so is the chest. He figures the face will be too, like the last Arachne’s had been. He can’t see very far anymore. It’s grown very late into the night and his light has dimmed significantly; his vision is swimming with tears.

He thinks of shrinking as means of escape, but is sure the pain will consume him so completely that he’ll die before he’s his original size.

He’ll die one way or another.

Before he can choose whether or not he wants to go out on his own terms, he’s being laid back onto the ground, on his side, and the Arachne picks up a large rock, his muscles bulging and reminding Laurent of how doomed he truly is.

He thinks the Arachne is going to drop the rock on top of him and simply let it be done, but that isn’t what happens. The rock is moved out of the way to reveal a tunnel lined with silk, leading to a burrow. The Arachne rolls Laurent onto his stomach and maneuvers him so he’s lying in the hole. He’s released and he slips all the way down the silky tunnel.

The only light in the holed out burrow is the glow Laurent puts off, but he can still barely see. The Arachne follows him down and shuts out the world outside by sliding the rock back into place, hiding them away.

Laurent wishes he had never left Auguste’s side.

Laurent moves, biting his tongue against the pain, until he’s moved closer to the wall of the burrow, still lying on his stomach.

The Arachne peeks out of the tunnel and walks towards him. Laurent flinches back, then hisses in pain. If he weren’t so lightheaded, he’d have noticed his light dimming further.

The Arachne moves closer still, more cautious than before, but Laurent is starting to feel dizzy and cannot find it in him to fight back, his body tingling at every point of contact. The Arachne’s hands reach for his feet, and slowly start to tear off the silk wrapping them together. The Arachne opens its maw, stretching all the way back to its jaw, a parody of a smile, and baring not only the fangs in its mouth, but the ones attached to the chelicera coming from as far back as above where his ears would be, and eats the silk.

Laurent, lethargic and weak, wonders if Arachne even have ears.

It approaches again and reaches for Laurent’s arms this time. It’s close enough now for Laurent to see its eyes, shiny before, reflecting his light. Two high on his temples, two small ones on each cheek under where its forward eyes rest. Wolf spider.

Laurent is very far from home indeed.

And the Arachne’s face is covered in dark fur, just like the rest of him, though it’s shorter here. Flat nose, enough to have nostrils but not hinder his vision.

Laurent is moved into a sitting position—having all those legs must make a lot of things easier—and leant forward, and expects the large fangs hanging by his mouth to sink into his neck to predigest him and make an easier meal, but that, like many other things this night, is not what actually happens.

He’s cradled to the Arachne’s stomach between its pedipalps as it produces some silk and straps it to the bleeding nubs at Laurent’s back. Laurent vaguely, suddenly, remembers Paschal telling him that spider silk helps stem bleeding.

Laurent doesn’t have long to be confused about why the Arachne is helping him rather than eating him before he passes out from all that has transpired over the last hour.

* * *

When Laurent wakes up, he’s lying on a bed of dry leaves that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there the night before, but he can’t be positive. He had been nearly delirious with pain and can even now only think of the acute ache in his back, starting at his shoulder blades and slicing up and down his spine.

Because his wings are gone. And he’ll never fly again.

Laurent sucks in a breath and reasons that crying will not bring his wings back. A glance around the dark space shows him the Arachne sitting on his own pile of dry leaves, his upper body, the humanoid half, has its arms crossed and is leaning against the dirt wall, while the rest, the spider half, has its six legs curled up in the leaves.

He looks over when he notices Laurent moving.

He rises and moves forward, and Laurent doesn’t have it in him to flinch away when he sits Laurent up and leans him forward again, switching out his silk bandages for fresh ones. The silk hurts him when it’s removed, pulling against his flesh and, he thinks, reopening the wounds.

When he feels warm rivulets running down his cold back, he knows they were reopened.

Or maybe they never closed at all and the silk just grew sticky overnight.

Regardless, Laurent groans as his skin is pulled. His light grows ever darker.

The Arachne is quick but gentle with his work and soon after he finishes, he’s carefully helping Laurent back into a comfortable position leaned against the dirt wall.

He clicks at Laurent, his teeth chomping and tongue rolling in a way that makes Laurent think that the Arachne is trying to communicate with him. Laurent doesn’t speak this language though, and so he does not respond. The Arachne opens his mouth again, and this time he speaks common tongue, something Laurent does understand.

“Are you in a great deal of pain?”

Laurent doesn’t know if that should even be dignified with a response. His wings were savagely ripped from his back, of course he’s in a lot of pain. A twinge rolls up his spine as he works himself up with the thought, and Laurent groans again.

The Arachne’s nostrils flare and his spider abdomen beats into the ground, then he pulls his arms in and takes a step back, a nervous movement. But that noise jogs a memory in Laurent’s foggy mind.

That’s the noise he had been following the night before. This Arachne’s butt had gotten him into this. Laurent doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He restrains himself and does neither.

He’s more tired than anything.

“I…” Laurent doesn’t want to ask for anything from this beast, especially if he were to think he was owed afterwards, but Laurent also doesn’t think he can do this on his own without causing himself more harm. “I wish to lie down.”

The Arachne obliges without needing to be asked for anything further, lowering Laurent to the floor and turning him onto his stomach so he doesn’t have to tense his muscle to do it himself.

“Sleep.”

Laurent gives a weak nod and does as he’s instructed.

* * *

Laurent’s eyes flutter open when he hears the rock covering the burrow being slid back into place, only a flicker of light breaking through. Its late evening, maybe. The Arachne is part wolf spider, he can’t see very well in daylight anyway.

He comes to Laurent immediately after exiting the tunnel and Laurent sees he’s carrying a rounded piece of bark in his hand. He can’t see what’s in it.

Laurent looks around the little burrow again. He can focus better than he could before, but his light is still too dim to see well in the darkness. It at least hasn’t gotten any darker since yesterday. Which begs the question: why is he still alive? Doesn’t the Arachne realize nursing his meal to health will just make it harder to eat him later?

The Arachne offers the bowl to Laurent, but Laurent doesn’t dare move for fear of hurting his back further. It aches, but it hasn’t hurt this little since the accident.

He sets the bowl down and moves to change the bandages on Laurent’s back again. It continues to pull but it hurts less now, and he doesn’t know whether or not he’s bleeding still. Once that’s done, he helps Laurent to lean against the dirt wall, still low enough to not touch his nubs against the dirt.

He picks up the bowl and presses it to Laurent’s dry lips. “Drink?”

Laurent can see that it’s water, clean. They must be close to a river. He hopes it isn’t salt water. He’s parched enough to risk finding out. A small sip; it’s fresh water.

Laurent continues to drink from the wooden, makeshift bowl until all the water is gone. The Arachne smiles.

The Arachne sets the bowl down beside Laurent and Laurent has to ask because this question is gnawing at him. “Why am I still alive?”

The Arachne looks worried but like he doesn’t know how to answer. Laurent tries again.

“Why haven’t you eaten me?”

The Arachne watches him for a moment, before sitting himself in front of Laurent. “I witnessed what my brother had done, what he attacked and intended to eat. Pixies are good, and they are pure. I cannot undo what has been done to you,” he sighs. “But I can help heal your hurt and keep you safe until you return home.”

Laurent doesn’t know what to think of this. Auguste doesn’t speak of them, he does not often show prejudice at all, but everyone else in Vere warns of the Arachne of Akielos. How a majority of them had sided with the Fairies in the last war. Sure, there were pockets of resistance, and when the Fairies turned tail and left their allies, including the Arachne, to fend for themselves against the Pixies and their allies, they had sworn vengeance. This Arachne though, he seems the type who had been on the side of the Pixies. He doesn’t speak or act in a way to suggest otherwise.

He’s been nothing but gentle and considerate of Laurent since he rescued him from certain death.

“Would you like more water?”

Laurent meets the forward eyes of the Arachne and gives a small nod. He gives Laurent another smile and leaves his burrow, wooden bowl in hand.

Laurent feels like he can breathe a little easier with this knowledge in hand. He’s safe for now and being nursed back to health. At least if he dies it will be of natural causes and not because he was eaten.

Laurent sighs and settles against the wall. His back hurts and he’d like to rest, but the Arachne will not be gone for very long, so Laurent waits.

* * *

He does end up dozing while the Arachne is gone, but not so deeply that Laurent misses his return. He has the bowl of water in one hand, and something—

Laurent gasps, mesmerized. There’s a shiny in the Arachne’s hand.

Laurent is reaching out for the shiny before he even realizes it, and the Arachne hands it over without complaint. Laurent holds it close, inspecting it. The shiny is small and white like silver, circular with a big hole in the middle, and a clear rock held on the top. Laurent’s light makes the rock shine and reflect a rainbow through the burrow. It looks like the circles the humans wear.

It’s beautiful.

Laurent’s view, however, is blocked when the wooden bowl is pressed to his lips again and it’s like a spell is broken. Laurent glances up at the Arachne smiling down at him then starts to drink the water in little sips.

When he’s finished, the bowl is moved and the shiny sparkles again.

He needs to find somewhere to stash this until he can get home.

There’s nowhere in this burrow for him to hide the shiny though. All there is around the dimly lit space is dirt and dry leaves. That won’t keep his shiny safe.

Laurent feels anxiety creeping through his veins and his wing nubs give a nervous twitter. Laurent whimpers at the sensation and bites his lip to fight back the pain coursing through him. The Arachne is still standing before him and looks concerned, then races back out of his burrow.

Laurent doesn’t know why the Arachne ran out, but he’s left alone all the same.

Laurent’s hand clenches into the dirt under him and he gazes at the shiny. Someplace safe, just a temporary place to keep the shiny safe until he can go home again.

Laurent closes his eyes and tries to think of a way to keep the shiny safe.

The leaves wont work, they’re easy to move and he could lose the shiny in them. But…the dirt might work.

Laurent looks at his fingers dug into the dirt floor of the burrow, lifting the loosed dirt, and watching it slip through his fingers, back to the floor. Laurent digs a bigger, deeper whole into the dirt and then tenderly places the shiny inside, loosely packing the dirt back on top and a circle drawn around it with his finger, so he can see where he made the hole.

Safe and marked, Laurent feels a weight lifted off his shoulders.

It’s a short while later before the Arachne returns, another piece of bark in hand, except, this one compared to the last looks like it was ripped directly off a tree’s trunk. There are also small, dark berries sitting on it, a decent pile of them too.

The Arachne hands the bark to Laurent. “Blackberries. These will help the pain.”

Laurent looks down at the plate of bark in his hands and smiles a little. How very kind.

Laurent begins to eat the fruit, picking vine stems off a few here and there, and the Arachne takes a seat on his own leaf bed. He and Laurent sit in companionable silence while Laurent finishes his fruit. The Arachne takes up the position of sitting on his leaves and leaning against the wall, watching Laurent.

Laurent suddenly remembers that Arachne, like their spider brethren, don’t have eyelids. He must be sleeping. Except, Laurent thinks with a furrowed brow, it’s growing later into the night, he should be wide awake. Though, if he has nothing to do but to watch Laurent, then Laurent isn’t so surprised he would use the time to rest.

When Laurent finishes, he sets the plate of bark aside, and carefully, very carefully, works to lower himself to the ground. The Arachne sends a few urgent clicks at Laurent and moves to stand, but, against his better judgement and a whole lot of pain, Laurent stops him with a hand, leaving his other to hold all his weight for a few precious moments, then settles it back by its twin and finishes lowering himself, groaning at the last few inches between himself and floor.

Laurent is exhausted by the time he’s back on the floor, huffing for breath and trying not tense his back too much with the pain flaring from his nubs as it is. The Arachne is sitting, anxiousness and worry keeping him coiled tight, but ready to spring at the first sign that Laurent needs assistance. It’s sweet.

The pain gradually begins to fade back to its dull ache, more manageable than before, and Laurent takes a breath of relief. The Arachne is still anxious though, looking for anything that could show Laurent needs his help. Laurent offers him a weak smile in return.

“I’m okay,” he assures. “I need to learn to do things on my own. But thank you for being there in case I needed help.”

That seems to set the Arachne at ease, at least a little, for he settles back into his leaves but he doesn’t lean against the wall. Laurent watches the Arachne watching him, and it occurs to him that they have never truly been introduced.

“Call me Laurent.”

The Arachne seems to perk at this new information. Living so close to the Kemptian Fairies, it is likely he isn’t introduced to other species, let alone with the privilege of learning their names. Fairies are tricky with their names, and the power behind them. Pixies find it ridiculous, and will share their true names, but they do not give them away.

He smiles. “You can call me Damianos, but Damen works as well.”

Laurent smiles to himself and sinks into his leaves for sleep, his breath slowing and eyes falling closed. “I’m glad to have met you Damianos.”

* * *

Laurent is woken up suddenly by something falling roughly down the tunnel, Damen running down after it. The opening to the burrow is haphazardly closed. Damen is meticulous about their hiding spot and likely won’t keep it that way for long.

By the glow Laurent puts out, faint but getting brighter, it’s some creature, the size of Laurent’s lower leg, wrapped in Damen’s silk and struggling to break free. The tail whipping about in agitation leads Laurent to believe it’s a lizard of some type, though he is not so well versed in the creatures that dwell in Akielos, especially this far passed the border.

Damen grabs the lizard, fighting his hold, and sinks his chelicera fangs into the creature’s side, hissing viciously from his mouth as he does so. His face is sharp, angry lines and glaring eyes, focused wholly on draining his acid into the lizard’s body.

Laurent, honestly, is horrified.

Damen puts the lizard, still fighting, down near the far wall from Laurent and goes to fix the door to their dwelling, as Laurent had predicted. Then he notices Laurent.

He smiles. “You are awake.” He walks up to Laurent, mindless to the apprehension on Laurent’s face, and helps to sit him up so he can tend to Laurent’s bandages.

“Yes,” Laurent croaks. “I’m awake. But…who is our guest?”

Damen looks down at Laurent, snuggled securely against his fuzzy stomach and between his pedipalps, then over his shoulder at the lizard slowly giving in to the predigestive fluids coursing through its body. Then he looks back down at Laurent, his face both sorry and somber. “I have to eat.”

Laurent hasn’t seen Damen eat since he arrived days ago. A wary glance to the dying lizard and Laurent reasons that with a meal like that he probably does not need to eat often. As it is, Laurent isn’t used to retaining this size for such long periods of time and has grown weak without sufficient food as well. His normal size needs only a berry a day to be more than enough to keep him healthy and his magic flourishing. At this size, a single plate of berries a day is beginning to wear him thin, and his magic has grown weak to the point he doubts he could make himself small again.

He feels trapped in this body. Too big to function properly.

Without his wings he’ll never function properly again regardless.

To the Dust, Auguste must be worried sick. Laurent has never been away from home for this long, and never without fore notice and a guard or two. And clearly with good reason if this is the fate that had awaited him. He always knew that being a Halfer made him both stronger and weaker in one, but Auguste had always kept him safe and sheltered, he never imaged that his weaker wings would snap so easily.

Auguste was always a pillar of strength for him, and made being what they are look so effortless, that Laurent had never imaged he could fall. To lose his wings…

Laurent leans more fully into Damen and fights back tears. What is he supposed to do with himself now? He’ll never be able to explore around the kingdom barrow again, fly between the kingdom trees where they all live, he’ll never be able to visit the horse herd that gathers along the beach’s shore.

He’s broken now and cannot live his life as he used to.

And, forbid it, should a worse fate than his own befall Auguste. The Pixies would never allow Laurent to lead them.

Wingless.

Defenseless.

Useless.

Laurent chokes on a sob and grabs Damen, because he needs this, the comfort, and Damen has been so kind to him. A kindness he has only ever found in his brother and in nature, but never from his own people. His guards are loyal to him, would give their lives for him, but he could never seek them out for a shoulder to cry on.

Not as he does now.

Damen sits before him and wraps his arms more firmly around Laurent. Laurent, in turn, tucks his face into the soft fur covering Damen’s neck, and he feels no fear. Damen could so easily bite him now and Laurent would have little strength to fight back, but Laurent trusts that Damen will not.

And that trust is rewarded.

Damen stays with him while he cries, bawls really, and pets down his back to soothe him. His mother use to sing to him when he cried, and Auguste would hum the same songs his mother sang; Damen doesn’t know her songs, but his silent companionship is more than enough.

Laurent knows her songs though, and when he’s finally calmed enough to ease his breathing to something more normal, Laurent begins to hum her songs to Damen.

He and Damen sit in the soft light of Laurent’s life well passed when Laurent stops humming and falls back asleep.

* * *

When Laurent awakes again, the lizard is gone and Damen is resting in his usual spot, eyes on Laurent but clearly with his body at peace. Maybe this is the closest to sleep someone without eyelids can get. A resting state, but never true sleep.

He must have eaten the lizard after laying Laurent back down to rest.

Except—there’s a new plate of bark piled high with berries sitting in front of Laurent, along with his wooden bowl of water. Far enough away to not get knocked over should he become restless in his sleep, but close enough to be in reach once he’s sat up.

Laurent glances back up at Damen, now clearly watching and no longer resting. Laurent puts his hands under himself and pushes up, grunting at the fire catching in his back, and manages, slowly, to get himself into a sitting position.

Damen offers him a small smile, clearly proud that Laurent is showing signs of getting better. Laurent offers one in return. Laurent drinks his water and eats his berries and they do not mention Laurent’s breakdown from the night before.

Once Laurent has finished his meal, he sets the bowl and plate aside and holds his hands out to Damen. “Help me up?”

Damen is quick to get to his feet and over to Laurent, taking his hands in his bigger, fluffier, clawed hands, and then taking his two front spider arms and cups Laurent’s hips—bringing a blush to Laurent face in the process—then helps Laurent up.

Laurent’s shoulders hurt so badly when Damen helps pull him up that he gasps; his legs shake under him and his knees are not steady in the least. He can barely remember a time when he’s needed to walk. Stand, yes, but not walk. Surely he was less than a century old. And with his injury weakening him, standing alone is a challenge.

Damen does not remove any of his grips though, so Laurent is forced to lean more fully into him. That’s also why he doesn’t fall to the dirt floor when he’s knees give out seconds later. Damen catches him, arms flexing and holding, and Laurent groans when his back is strained.

“Do you wish to continue?”

Laurent looks up at Damen’s face, a full head higher than his own, even back on his feet, and gives a resolute nod. “I have to. This is my life now and I need to be able to do this.”

Damen gives a determined nod in return and keeps Laurent steady, walking carefully backwards as Laurent takes a few steps forward. He doesn’t even complete a full circuit around the burrow before he’s sweating and panting for breath, but he’d made more progress than he’d expected and the smile Damen is giving him is bright like the sun, so he lets himself feel a little proud.

Damen insists he rest after that though, carrying him back to his leaf bed and laying him out on his stomach. He changes the bandages at Laurent’s back while he’s at it, and they feel particularly sticky from his sweat, but he doesn’t think he’s bled the last few days, and that’s just one more step in the right direction.

Damen steps out of their burrow with the excuse of needing to get water and Laurent takes the time to dig out his shiny and stare at it for a while, as he’s prone to do when he’s awake while Damen’s gone. It’s gotten dirty from being buried, but once he returns home, he can clean it off with a little water and add it to his collection.

The shiny’s rock doesn’t sparkle like it used to though, and rainbow has gone away. Laurent mourns its loss.

* * *

Laurent notices that Damen has a habit of beating his butt into the ground around Laurent, but he doesn’t know why and Damen looks too shy about it for Laurent to want to ask, at the risk of embarrassing Damen.

Eventually though, while Laurent is taking his first unsure steps unaided towards Damen, he beats his butt into the ground again, and the drumming startles Laurent so terribly that he collapses to the dirt before Damen can reach out and catch him.

It’s painful, to both his knees and his back, but Damen is fretting about him more than Laurent thinks is strictly necessary. He’s so worked up that he’s clicking at Laurent again, and Laurent has learned that he cannot reproduce the sounds because it involves Damen’s chelicera fangs as well and Laurent does not have those.

Laurent finds it a little funny actually.

“Damen!” he laughs. “I’m fine, just a little banged up. But I feel I should be forewarned the next time your butt is going to bounce like that.”

Damen, Laurent is sure, would be blushing right now if he could. His hands tighten on Laurent’s elbows and hips.

“It’s a mating thing,” Damen blurts. Laurent thinks this is the first time Damen has truly lost his composure, in front of Laurent at least.

Laurent raises a surprised brow, not having expected that answer. “What?”

Damen takes a breath and turns his face from Laurent’s for a moment, another embarrassed tick. “It’s called drumming. It is how I attract a mate. I…I can’t help it.”

Laurent nods but he doesn’t understand why that should embarrass him; he doesn’t prompt Damen for more though.

Damen doesn’t offer.

* * *

A few weeks pass in this sequence. Damen notes that Laurent doesn’t appear to need the silk bandages anymore, which is more than a relief, and he tries not to think too hard about his wings never growing back. He’s spared his tears for them once, and that is enough.

Damen has brought Laurent a few more shinies after his particularly long trips out, some just like the one he first brought Laurent, others long and dangly with a point on the end that sticks out at an odd angle or curves around. They all glow under Laurent’s light and Laurent feels happier than he has in a long time. Laurent also had to make his hidey-hole bigger to fit them all.

Damen helps him with his walking every morning after Laurent’s had his morning meal, and Laurent has gotten to a point he doesn’t need support at all, even though Damen still readily offers it. Laurent’s light has gotten brighter as his health has improved, but he notices Damen having a harder time looking at him. His long trips have grown more frequent.

Laurent doesn’t venture outside of the burrow with Damen, despite Damen’s offers and insistence that he would keep Laurent safe. Laurent simply doesn’t think he’s ready for that amount of exercise, though he’s touched Damen has so much faith in him.

He and Damen are curled up together on Damen’s leaf bed on a particularly chilly night. Laurent, like many Pixies, doesn’t wear any clothing, and Damen’s fur protects him from the colder weather, so he has not qualms about sharing his heat with Laurent.

Laurent settles carefully against Damen’s chest, wrapped in his arms. His nubs haven’t been hurting as much lately, but they feel tight, like the new skin formed is still too fresh to stretch properly, and they feel raw to the touch, but the pain has greatly subsided.

“So, explain to me how drumming attracts a mate.”

Damen has been explaining a few different things about Akielos to Laurent, and the Arachne in general, but this is the first he’s broached of the topic of mating. Damen, to his credit, takes the question in stride.

“It’s a song of sorts. If a female likes my song, she takes me back to her nest, we mate, and then I run away as fast as I can.”

Laurent is brought to pause at that. He looks up at Damen. “What do you mean run away as fast as you can?”

Damen laughs a little. “Female Arachne, like normal spiders, are vicious. If I don’t get away quick enough, she’ll kill me, or at least try to. I’d be intruding on her nest by that point, or she may simply want to eat me because she can,” he explains. “But its mating season, and, well…” He shrugs, like that should give credit to his words.

“So, sex and then maybe death? That…” Laurent knows Vere is a bit more eccentric about sex, but he doesn’t think he’d like that very much. “Sounds exhilarating.”

Damen throws his head back with a laugh and rocks Laurent’s body with the movement. Laurent can’t help the little chuckle that escapes him from Damen’s reaction.

Once he’s calmed back down, Damen continues sharing the details of Arachne mating, a charming smile settled on his face. “There can also be gifts and dancing, if the female is on the fence about her choice of mate or if there is more than one who has caught her eyes.”

Laurent feels a spark of interest at that. “You dance?”

Damen nods. “It likely isn’t anything like you’re used to, but it is essentially the same.”

Laurent gives a forlorn sigh and settles more firmly against Damen. “I _love_ dancing,” he tells him. “I won’t be able to dance with anyone anymore though.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

“Because I need my wings to dance.”

Damen falls silent then. Laurent thinks back to the last dance Arles held, months ago; the Vaskian Pixie clans along the border had come for negotiations, and they had gone very well, but the dancing had been marvelous. The glow of the blue glass dome over their heads in their lost barrow, shining and sparkling with all their shared lights, had been beautiful.

Everyone flying to the songs being played, moving their feet to the steps taught, spinning in the lights. Laurent is never happier than when he is dancing and can lose himself to the steps and the songs.

He and Auguste have always been marveled at, being half Pixie and half Fairy, their wings thin and translucent like their father’s but marbled through with thick veins like the butterfly wings their mother had; beautiful, but ultimately weaker than everyone else’s for the mixture. Yet still everyone wanted to dance with the two Halfer princes. Laurent, much to Auguste’s amusement, never cared for suitors, but Laurent would accept any dance offer extended to him.

He would waste the weeks away dancing under the moon and sunlight, the dome over their heads changing as the hours few by. It was enchanting.

Laurent would now be standing on the floor, left to watch everyone else enjoying their weeks dancing, all alone. If he could even make it to the barrow at all and not be left to his rooms in the palace.

“Do the dances of your people have steps, or do they simply fly each other in circles?”

Laurent is startled at the question, ripped from his reverie. He looks up at Damen’s curious face. “There are steps, and we mimic them in the air, but flying each other in circles would also be part of it.”

Damen’s warmth is suddenly gone from his back, but he catches Laurent before he can fall into the leaves and helps Laurent to his feet. Laurent is bewildered at the sudden change and is about to ask what Damen thought he was doing, when Damen gives him a smile then bows.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Laurent?”

A bubble of laughter slips passed Laurent’s lips. He raises a brow and glances at Damen’s spider legs. With six he’d end up tripping over himself very early in. “You don’t know the steps, though.”

Damen steps closer to him, slipping his hands from Laurent’s and placing them on his waist instead. They have grown very close now. “Then show me.”

Laurent’s face is burning when he nods. He takes Damen’s hands and moves them to the proper positions, one on his back, the other clasped in his own. He places his free hand on Damen’s shoulder. They both stare down at their feet. “Tradition used to dictate that dancing be done on the ground,” he says then takes a step back, Damen following him. “But as times changed and the millennia went by, our people began to fly as they danced, even though we continue to teach the steps and preform them in the air.”

Laurent teaches Damen a few more sequence of steps, working them in a slow circle around the burrow.

“Pixies don’t walk anymore,” Laurent shrugs. “Flying is simply the way things are done and makes getting where you’re going much more efficient.”

Damen nods, and that is all Laurent has to share, so they focus on their feet and continue making circles. Before long, Laurent begins to hum the song that goes to this dance and leans his head against Damen’s chest. The song soothes him, and a lull settles over the burrow as an effect.

Laurent doesn’t realize how long they’ve been dancing until his thighs start to burn and shake. Damen is practically holding him up by now, supporting most of his weight, but he hasn’t complained. Damen is humming along with him as well.

Laurent’s sense of time has been compromised by living in a burrow for so long, but by the ache in his legs he’s sure they’ve been dancing for hours now. Laurent looks up at Damen and sees he’s already looking at Laurent, a gentle smile on his face. “Welcome back.”

Laurent can’t help his own smile. Going into a daze from dancing like this isn’t uncommon, that’s partly why celebrations are held for weeks on end. The more wild parties, the ones Laurent is generally not allowed to attend per Auguste’s orders, are shorter than that because the buzz that comes with the more fast paced dancing keeps everyone more aware of themselves.

“I think we should stop now, lest I collapse from exhaustion,” he jokes.

Damen sweeps Laurent up into his arms, effortless as always, and settles them back onto his leaf bed. Laurent closes his eyes and snuggles closer to Damen still, seeking his warmth and comfort, feeling soft from the dancing and the music. “Thank you for this Damen. I’ve missed dancing; it’s made better by my partner being you.”

Damen doesn’t speak for a moment so Laurent opens his eyes and gazes up at him. Damen opens his mouth and seems to hesitate for a moment, then brings his hand up and cups Laurent’s cheek instead. “Laurent,” he starts. “Can I kiss you?”

Laurent’s heart is pounding and his eyes widen. He hadn’t expected such a question to come from Damen. From everything they’ve discussed, Laurent was under the impression Damen was only interested in females, and of his own species at that. Though, clearly, Laurent was wrong.

“Y-yes.”

Damen brings Laurent closer to him, and tilts down to press his lips to Laurent’s. His lips don’t push forward like Laurent’s do, and his fur is soft and tickles Laurent’s skin. Laurent can also feel Damen’s smooth chelicera fangs _just_ touching his cheeks and that’s a little unnerving, but Damen is very good at keeping that thought at the back of his mind.

Damen’s hand trails down his face, his touch feather soft, to his neck. Laurent sighs at the sensation, wholly new and overwhelming, and Damen nips Laurent’s bottom lip, careful to keep his sharp teeth from tearing Laurent’s delicate skin.

Laurent can feel heat pooling in his belly and his cheeks are burning and he doesn’t understand _why_ , but he doesn’t get to dwell on it long because his wing nubs give an excited twitch and, honestly, it aches more than he thinks it should, and he yelps.

Damen startles more than Laurent had however and tenses up. Then he’s swiftly putting space between Laurent and himself. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Laurent’s eyes flutter open—when had they closed? He offers a smile to Damen, a reassurance, and boldly reaches up to cup his face and place one more kiss to his lips. Chaste.

“No Damen, you didn’t hurt me. But we should sleep.”

Damen doesn’t argue, in fact he seems content, happy even, to simply have Laurent in his arms.

* * *

When Laurent wakes, he’s lying in Damen’s leaf bed and has his bowl and plate of bark waiting for him with his food and water. Damen isn’t with him, nor is he in the burrow. Laurent thinks back and assumes he’s hunting.

Last night comes back to him without problem, and the thought of the shared kiss makes his cheeks heat and a smile creep onto his face. He brushes his cold fingers against his lips, a poor echo of last night’s feeling.

He wouldn’t be opposed to another, if Damen were inclined as well.

Laurent jumps when the entrance rock is moved suddenly, but it’s Damen who comes down the tunnel, alone. He smiles when he sees Laurent awake and Laurent offers him one in return. Laurent stands to meet him in the middle of the burrow, feeling shy suddenly.

“I brought you something,” Damen whispers in the small space between them.

Laurent perks up immediately. He loves when Damen brings him things; they always shine.

Damen brings a fist up between them and uncurls his fingers, revealing two golden ribbons.

Laurent gasps and takes them. It’s been a long time since he’s found ribbons. They’re nearly the same shade as Auguste’s glow, maybe darker. He turns them over in his hands and inspects their length. One side has a subtle shine and is smooth to the touch, the other a rough texture with little shine. They’re both about the length of Laurent’s forearm and in good condition, hardly even frayed at the ends.

Laurent smiles wide and holds out his wrist to Damen. “Tie one for me?”

Damen smiles and takes the proffered ribbon, slipping it over Laurent slim wrist, shiny side out, and ties it into a knot, the remaining thread trailing down to tickle his fingertips, loose enough around his wrist to not inhibit his blood flow. He holds his hand out to take Laurent’s other wrist as well and repeat the process, but Laurent has other ideas.

He takes the remaining ribbon and loops it around Damen’s thick, furry wrist, as careful as Damen had been with him, and ties a matching knot.

When he finishes, he smiles up at Damen, hoping to see approval in his eyes and a smile in return, but Damen isn’t even looking at him. He’s staring down at his wrist, at his ribbon, with a strained expression.

“Damen?” Laurent takes Damen’s hand into his, covering the furry palm with both his own. “Is it…not okay?”

Damen meets his eyes then, and Laurent is worried he’s ruined whatever had been growing between them. But, to his surprise, Damen reaches his free hand up and caresses Laurent’s cheek. “Laurent…”

Laurent leans into his hand, bringing one of his own to cover it. The hands with their ribbons tied remain together. “What is it that troubles you so, Damianos?”

Damen takes a breath and speaks his heart, “I do not wish to be parted from you Laurent.”

Is he…asking for Laurent to stay? Laurent thinks on it for a moment; never leaving here, never leaving Damen. Never having more worries than for Damen’s safe return after a hunt, having enough food for himself. When he finally gathers the courage to leave the burrow, staying safe and not becoming a liability to Damen. Being loved and cared for by Damen as their lives pass. Loving and caring for Damen in return. The ease of it.

Then, unbidden against the warm feeling gathering in his chest, Laurent thinks of his people. Of his brother. Auguste doesn’t even know that he’s alive. Laurent has been gone from home for a very long time now. To the Dust. How can anyone ever be forced to chose between the two people they care for the most?

Damen, not knowing of Laurent’s internal conflict, leans his forehead against Laurent’s. “Will you be my mate Laurent?”

Laurent’s throat catches. How is he…how can he say no? How can he explain to Damen that he has to leave him? To return to his brother and his people?

How can he live with himself after?

“Damen,” Laurent croaks. His eyes fall closed and he clutches Damen’s hands, the only things grounding him. “We can’t…” he whispers, broken.

Damen nods against him, but does not let go of Laurent, for which he is thankful. “Can I…can I at least ask why?”

“I need to return home,” Laurent says. “It wouldn’t be fair to promise myself to you…when that is not something I can do.”

“Is there another?”

Laurent gives a huff of laughter; there is no humor in it. “There has never been another. There is only you.”

Laurent opens his eyes then and glances up at Damen. He looks confused. “If there is no other, why do you speak as though spoken for?”

“It is my brother.” As good a place to start as any. “I have never been from home for so long. It is likely a whole season has passed and he doesn’t know anything of my condition.”

Damen nods again, swiping his thumb over Laurent’s cheek. “I understand.”

Laurent doesn’t want Damen to understand. He wants Damen to fight for him; but that’s what he loves about Damen, isn’t it? His understanding? His gentleness? His caring more for the person he’s with than himself? It would be so easy for Damen to keep telling Laurent sweet nothings until Laurent swooned in his arms and agreed to never leave his side.

But heartbreak is all their fates hold.

Damen lets his hand slip from under Laurent’s. Panic fills Laurent. This can’t truly be over?

Without much thought, Laurent steps into Damen’s space, closing those last few inches between them, and presses his lips to Damen’s. Damen puts his arms around Laurent’s waist and pulls him flush to Damen’s front. Laurent wraps his arms around Damen’s neck, forcing Laurent to the tips of his toes.

Damen separates their lips, but he remains a hairsbreadth away. “Laurent?”

“I…I’m sorry.” He moves to pull away, but Damen’s arms remained locked around him.

“Laurent, I don’t understand.”

Laurent can’t look at Damen as he confesses, so he tucks his face into his furry neck. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t. But I cannot stay either, and it hurts.”

One of Damen’s hands come up to Laurent’s head and pets his hair. “If you wish to stay, why do you think you cannot?”

“My brother,” he says. “He is King of the Pixies.”

He expects this to be a big revelation, for Damen to recoil and fret, but it does not come. Damen continues to pet his head and waits for him to continue. He hadn’t expected to need to continue.

“I have a responsibility to my people to be there and help my king as his most trusted adviser and be a ready Regent should he ever need to leave for a period of time, and—”

“Laurent.”

Laurent is so glad Damen stopped him from that halfhearted spiel. “I want to be your mate Damen, but I cannot promise myself to you when my people must come first…Pixies mate for life and my people do not care much for yours…”

“Laurent,” Damen coos.

Laurent meets Damen’s eyes. “Damen, I love you.”

Damen’s smile grows and it’s infectious, so even with the lingering doubt floating in his mind, Laurent smiles as well.

Damen hums, happy. “You want to be my mate.”

Laurent, despite himself, laughs. “Is that the only part that you heard?”

Damen’s hands cup Laurent’s face. “That’s the only part that matters.” And kisses him soundly on the lips again. Against his lips, “Do you truly wish to be my mate?”

“Yes.”

Damen needs no further persuasion, because after this confirmation, he scoops Laurent into his arms and carries him back to their leaf bed. Damen sits down and lays Laurent in front of him, then spreads Laurent's legs with warm hands and leans down, laying all his body between Laurent’s legs.

Damen brings his hands under Laurent’s back and raises him barely off the ground, enough that his wing nubs are no longer pressed into the leaves and dirt, and pulls Laurent closer to him in a quick jerk. Laurent lets out a startled laugh and Damen gives a delightful smile.

Damen slides his hands slowly out from under Laurent’s back and trails them over his hips, down his thighs, then back up. His fur tickles. Damen presses kisses to Laurent’s right thigh first, from the juncture of his hip and up to his knee and repeats this process on his other leg.

Then Laurent catches sight of his tongue.

Damen’s tongue is long, thin, and dark purple. And slick with saliva. Laurent gasps as that hot, wet tongue sweeps over his cock and balls. The heat from the night before returning suddenly, burning and unyielding in his belly, and Laurent now knows that it’s arousal. Laurent’s never felt that before.

Damen’s tongue does not spend long there before venturing lower, passed his balls and down to—Laurent gasps as Damen’s tongue presses at his hole, catching the rim in his effort to press inside.

Laurent squirms under Damen’s ministrations.

Damen’s hands pet his thighs, his claws gently caressing his sensitive skin. He works his way back up to Laurent cock, spending more time now to lick at the head, drawing out precum and hitching Laurent’s breath with efficiency. Damen releases his hold on one of Laurent’s thighs in favor of pressing a knuckle to the underside of his balls, up, up, and up. Laurent lets out a breathless laugh at the sensation against his balls, new and pleasant. It makes him less nervous about what’s to come, if only slightly.

Damen gives a nipping bite to the meat of his thigh and gives Laurent a smile before ducking his head lower again, his intent clear. Laurent closes his eyes and waits to feel the warm tongue against him again, keeping his breath as calm as he can manage.

When it comes, he’s more prepared than before, and Damen is slower with the approach this time. He starts with a few laps against Laurent, and it feels odd, but not bad, and Laurent breathes as the tongue pushes against his entrance this time.

Damen hums when his tongue enters, and then it becomes as simple as trusting his tongue in and out of Laurent.

Laurent isn’t so sure about this feeling and his nerves begin rising again. Laurent reaches his hands down where they had previously been laying pliant and useless by his head and reaches for Damen’s hands.

Damen hums again when Laurent folds their fingers together, and Laurent can only imagine how pleased the big spider is. The thought brings a smile to his own face.

Damen’s tongue starts doing a— _thing_. It feels like it’s squirming inside him. Rolling maybe? Whatever it’s doing, Laurent thinks he likes it. He is less sure on how to express this to Damen.

Laurent’s breath is steadily stuttering in his throat the longer Damen’s tongue twists around inside him. Laurent himself is squirming just as much. His teeth bite onto his lip in an effort to keep from making any embarrassing sounds that he is sure are resting on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to escape and make his face burn hotter than it already is.

Damen’s tongue slithers out of him and Laurent, to the Dust, _keens_.

Damen chuckles, tongue free, and smiles at Laurent, his eyes sparkling, though that’s probably just because of Laurent’s light. “Laurent,” he purrs and squeezes Laurent’s hands.

Laurent cannot hold Damen’s gaze longer for fear of what his face is doing, so he lays his head back down and closes his eyes.

“Laurent, I need your help.”

Laurent looks down at Damen then, because he knows Damen has mated at least twice before, but Laurent knows next to nothing about sex, and even less about interspecies sex. What help could he possibly be?

“With?”

Damen releases one of Laurent’s hands and wiggles his fingers at Laurent. “I need to stretch you, but my claws will likely…not be pleasant.”

Laurent’s face flushes so hard he swears he grows dizzy with the rush of blood. He lays his head back again and takes a minute to compose himself. He cannot bare to look at Damen for this next part, so he simply holds his hand out for Damen to do with as he pleases.

Laurent hears Damen chuckle again, then two of his fingers are being folded down and the other two are suddenly very wet.

Laurent glances down to see his fingers in Damen’s mouth. He looks back up at the top of the burrow and clears his throat. Maybe conversation will relax him some? “Uh, why do you need to stretch me?”

Damen lets Laurent’s thoroughly wet fingers slip from his mouth. “So my cock will fit?” He sounds confused.

“How, um, how big is… _it_ , exactly?”

Damen sits up suddenly, and Laurent watches as Damen gestures lower. Laurent follows this line of sight to…oh.

Damen’s cock, which had apparently been kept safe in a little pouch in his body between his pedipalps, has come free. It resembles that of an octopus's tentacle without the suction cups, dark brown like his fur at the base then bleeding to the dark purple of his tongue as his eyes reach the tip. It looks to be nearly as long as Laurent’s forearm. Almost as thick around the base. Laurent gulps.

Damen picks up on his anxiety quickly. He leans over Laurent’s body and cups his cheek, thumb petting his cheekbone. “If you would rather not, that is okay. We can stop. Or if you liked what we were doing before, we can keep doing that without having to go further. Whatever you want, whatever will make you comfortable. Whatever makes you happy.”

Laurent catches Damen’s eyes again, and covers Damen’s hand with his own. “You make me happy.”

Damen smiles. “That is not an answer sweetheart.”

“I don’t recall you asking a question.”

Damen just hums and presses his lips to Laurent’s in a chaste reaffirment between them. “What do you want?”

Laurent glances at the hard, heavy cocks between them. “I want this.” He brings Damen’s hand around and presses a kiss to his fuzzy palm. “I want you.”

Damen presses another kiss to Laurent lips, then takes his fingers back into his mouth, and Laurent knows the drill now, is vaguely aware of how this is supposed to play out, at least until the joining. This is not how Pixies mate, this is simply an activity they share between each other. This is different from that in every way all the same. This is Damen’s half of their mating; Laurent’s will come after.

Damen guides Laurent’s poised fingers to his entrance, and Laurent has to stretch a bit to reach properly, and his lashes flutter when he presses in. It’s different from Damen’s tongue; where Damen’s tongue had reach, Laurent’s fingers stretch. And it feels _good_.

Laurent moans when Damen presses his hand closer to himself, pushing his fingers ever deeper. Damen’s head jerks up at the noise, his big eyes wide. He must be reassured by the look on Laurent’s face because his worry turns to pleasure very quickly.

“Pull your fingers in and out, like I did with my tongue. It will help,” he instructs.

Laurent does as he’s told, slowly, nerves turning his stomach. Or maybe that’s the arousal. It’s probably both.

“That’s right. You’re doing so good Laurent,” Damen praises, watching. “Now spread your fingers apart.”

Laurent stops thrusting his finger and tries this now. It’s more challenging than Damen’s voice implied it to be. Damen lays back between Laurent’s legs and keeps watching.

When Laurent finally gets his fingers to spread, Damen’s tongue slips between them. Laurent gasps at the sudden intrusion, as delighted as he may be.

“Damen,” he sighs.

Laurent tries to keep his fingers spread apart as Damen’s tongue wiggles inside him, but the pleasure is making his focus flimsy at best, and his fingers slip out while Damen’s tongue continues dancing inside him.

Laurent's fingers curl into the thick fur on Damen’s head, mewling and panting, trying not to think of the slickness he can feel slipping out of him.

Damen’s hands are moving again, back under Laurent’s arched back. His tongue comes out of Laurent, and Laurent blushes at Damen’s wet face. Laurent’s legs are over Damen’s arms, so it’s no surprise when Damen lifts him without effort and little rearranging.

Laurent hooks his arms around Damen’s neck so he isn’t dropped—not that he believes Damen’s will drop him, at least not on purpose—and waits for Damen to steady him.

“If you wish me to stop at any point, just say so and I will stop.”

Laurent smiles, his mate so thoughtful, and presses his lips to Damen’s once more. “Don’t stop.”

Damen reaches down carefully, taking all Laurent’s weight into one hand. From there Laurent cannot tell what is being done, but Laurent is lowered down all the same, and then can feel what must be the tip of Damen’s cock at his entrance.

Damen slides in easily enough to begin, but his tip is barely as wide as his finger tip. That quickly changes the lower down Laurent sinks onto him. Damen still has one hand somewhere beyond Laurent’s sight, the other cupping his hip with a vice grip, his claws sharp and stabbing. Damen’s breathing has grown harsh, if not fast like Laurent’s.

Laurent is panting into the crook of Damen’s neck, slowly falling lower and lower down his chest and onto his cock.

Damen’s hand returns after a time, and Laurent has stopping sinking. He is stretched and full, he can’t catch enough air and is burning from the inside out. Damen’s lips press to his head. “Are you okay?”

Laurent can do little more than moan in response. Okay? He’s _more_ than okay. He’s filled to the brim with euphoria. He’s never been so thankful for having waited for this moment. It’s made more special by his first being his chosen mate.

Damen chuckles at his response and improves his hold on Laurent, moving his hands around from his hips to his rear, and brings Laurent up.

Laurent is relieved of the pressure inside him for only a moment before he’s brought back down and split open once more.

Laurent sighs, leaning more fully onto Damen’s front and sliding his hands down from behind Damen’s neck down to grip his bulging biceps. Laurent thinks back to the first time he ever saw Damen pick up something heavy enough to make them bulge like this, back when he was sure he would die.

He thinks he may die now as well, though for a wholly different reason. A much more pleasurable reason.

Damen lowers and raises Laurent at a steady pace, never slowing or showing signs of fatigue, but his breathing grows heavier, panting with Laurent. He never turns his face from Laurent. Though Laurent is sure looking at him for so long has to be hurting Damen’s eyes.

Damen doesn’t lift Laurent all the way to his tip, only half way up, and Laurent cannot fit the base of his cock inside him so he is stopped just short of taking him all the way, but it is enough. Laurent clenches, tight all over, and his cock throbs.

“Damen,” Laurent whispers against his lips before he’s falling back down. Laurent moves a hand up into the long fur on Damen’s head, tangling his fingers in the tresses.

Damen growls, feral, his teeth bared and fangs threatening.

Damen’s pace picks up noticeably. His hands move back to Laurent’s hip, gripping the flesh so tight his claws have torn skin. Laurent hisses, and it provokes a similar response from Damen, deeper and longer than before. Laurent thinks Damen’s mind is not totally here anymore, his hindbrain taking over.

Laurent is at a disadvantage, and doesn’t wish to anger the beast lying dormant within Damen. Very carefully, he loosens his grip on Damen’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Soothingly, he speaks, “Damen, slow down.”

His words seem to register, because, while his grip is still harsh, possessive, the drag of his cock in Laurent has slowed again, not quite back to its original pace. It is better, so Laurent hums and pets Damen’s furry head. This appeases Damen as well.

Laurent’s cock is weeping, begging for any friction, any attention. Laurent slides his hand from Damen’s head, down his neck, down his arm, and grips himself. Laurent’s never touched himself here before, outside of bathing, but copies the motions he’s making on Damen’s cock for reference.

It’s… _intense_ , to say the least. Waves of electricity roll up his spine, tingling his arms and legs, curling his toes. He tightens around Damen, his breathing growing harsh and labored; Damen takes notice.

Damen lowers Laurent onto his cock again, but this time does not draw him back up. Laurent stops moving his hand and looks up at him with questions in his blurry eyes. Damen leans down, his tongue joining them once again. He licks at Laurent’s neck, wracking Laurent’s body with shivers.

Laurent pumps his cock again, assuming it’s what Damen wants, and can’t help the shudder he gives when Damen licks him again. Memories of his tongue inside him before coming to the forefront of his thoughts.

It does not take Laurent many more strokes before he is cumming, staining Damen’s dark fur a stark white.

Laurent slumps onto Damen then, his arms falling limp and tense muscles uncoiling. Never in his life has he felt so relaxed. Damen seems to come back to himself in pieces, glazed eyes gaining their familiar focus. He lifts Laurent from his cock and lays him back onto the leaf bed. His cock is as hard and thick as it was from the start, but his pedipalps look more swollen than before.

His sperm, Laurent thinks blearily. Arachne don’t cum from their cocks. Laurent is just a little thankful Damen hadn’t mindlessly tried to stuff him with his sperm sacks. Laurent would like to know what Damen intends to do with them, but he can feel himself slipping, sleep calling to him like a sweet swan song.

* * *

Laurent wakes feeling warm and sated in a way he’s never felt before. Damen has Laurent curled in his arms and resting against his furry chest, kept safe from the chill that settled into the burrow overnight. Damen smiles down at Laurent when he sees he’s awake. Laurent notices his cum is not on his fur anymore.

“Did you rest well?”

Laurent hums, curling closer to the warm body.

Damen looks worried. “I placed silk onto your wounds…I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Laurent smiles. “It was not so unpleasant. Fear not, you have not spurned the idea of doing this again from my mind. Far from it, in fact.”

The muscles under Laurent soften, as though Damen had been nervous of Laurent’s thoughts when he awoke. Laurent pets his chest. He’s feeling languid and cozy.

Damen is not so content to let them relax and bask in their shared night though, it seems. “We mated?”

“You were there, were you not?”

“That isn’t what I meant Laurent,” Damen says. “Your way. Pixie bonding.”

Oh. Right. Laurent shakes his head and gets onto his knees before Damen. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to figure out how he wishes to go about this. He wants it to be perfect.

“Pixies bond for life, as I’ve told you. They do so through magic; by bonding their souls together so they are one. The Dust binds them together, even after death.

“My parents were bonded. My mother was a Fairy princess and died after only a few centuries of living in the Pixie kingdom. Her health was frail from the start, but it only grew worse in our lands. After she died, my father only lived for two centuries more before he too died.

“A mated pair cannot live without one another for very long. Death eventually catches them both, so they may be joined once more in the Dust.” Laurent takes Damen’s hands in his own, looking at how different they were to his own, how similar. “Pixies can bond outside of their species. Humans are not rare, but are generally avoided because they live only a fraction of a lifetime the Pixies live. A human mate is a death sentence.”

Damen squeezes Laurent’s hands. “I am not human.”

Laurent looks up again. He smiles and concedes, “No. You are not. Arachne are not welcome among my people though, they are feared as much as the Fairies are loathed. My mother’s mating to my father was to prevent war; her death made the feud between us so strong it provoked worse.

“I would not have you treated as my mother was among my people, but I would not have you from my life either.” Laurent takes Damen’s face in his hands and plants a kiss to his lips. “If you would have me, I would bind our souls together as one, and we would be mates in this life and in death. Forever as one.”

Damen smiles and nods, love shining in his eyes.

Laurent has a slow moment of longing for his brother to be here, to be witness to the most important day in Laurent’s life. Auguste would say he is young, being foolish, not thinking things through with a clear head, but Laurent has never been more sure of anything in his life.

Damen loves him and has gone out of his way on more than one occasion to protect and care for Laurent. Auguste hasn’t seen the way Damen treats him, he doesn’t understand the love they share, how close they’ve grow over the months of Laurent’s recovery. In the end, Auguste would want Laurent to be happy, and Damen makes Laurent happy.

Laurent shifts on his knees. Auguste is not here, and there will be no witnesses.

A clawed finger tilts Laurent’s chin up and he meets Damen’s worried gaze. “If you are having second thoughts, I would not ask you to do this. I want you to be sure.”

“I am not having second thoughts.”

“We could wait if you prefer,” Damen offers.

“I do not wish to wait Damianos,” Laurent insists. “I want what you want, you need only say the words.”

“First, tell me what troubles you.”

Laurent shifts on his knees again and looks back down. He rubs his thumb on the shiny, golden ribbon on Damen’s wrist. “I miss my brother, and I wish he could have been here with us for our mating. It is always a big ceremony, with everyone in attendance. My brother’s mating was spectacular, the whole kingdom danced for months…We will not have that.”

“We have each other.”

Laurent smiles at their hands, feeling overwhelmed with his love for this Arachne. He plays with Damen’s fingers and nods. “We have each other.”

“And afterwards, we can dance together, if that would make you happy.”

Laurent laughs and kisses Damen again. “That would make me very happy. Thank you, Damen.”

“Anything to see you smile.” Damen tucks a strand of Laurent hair behind his ear. “I am ready when you are.”

One, small, anatomical problem first. “Where is your heart?”

Damen points, just a little lower than where Laurent’s own sits behind his ribs. Problem solved.

Laurent frees his hands and places one to his chest, over his heart. There are no words for this ceremony. It is meant to be a solemn act of oneness, of joining. Meant to be reflected on and cherished. But it requires concentration on Laurent’s part, because Damen cannot help him with this as a Pixie partner could. The Dust knows when it is called upon for this act.

A golden glow emits from his chest and he slowly brings his hand from his chest to Damen’s, a trail of the Dust following him. The line stretching thinner to the middle and widening as he meets Damen’s fur.

He places his hand back by his side as warmth spreads through his chest, blooming like a flower with petals peeling back to catch the rays of the sun, reaching up, down, and out. Reaching for Damen. Damen’s soul reaching back for him. Twining together around the Dust between them. Coming into one another. Familiarizing. Imprinting. Returning.

The Dust moves, grows, the ends connecting their souls crawling to cover them entirely. Golden sparkles shining in Laurent’s light.

“ _Laurent_ …” Damen looks mystified by the sight, awestruck. Laurent can spare only a smile, his concentration holding on desperately, to not lose this magic and break the bond too soon. He is using no small amount of energy for this, and will be very weak by the end; too weak and low on magic to try again for some time.

The Dust, having covered their bodies as close as the fur on Damen’s skin, moves back to meet between them, their soul line joining together in a golden ball between them, slowly spinning and raising above their heads, a tiny sun. The ball bursts, a blanket of golden dust sprinkling over them both.

The Dust has promised them forever.

Laurent sighs, shaky. Damen’s arms come around him and pull his shuddering body close. Damen caresses Laurent’s cheek, smiling down at him. “I take it you could not stand to dance right now?”

Laurent shakes his head, tired but warm from within. A soul mate does not feel any different from having a lover or close friend, but the bond is warm, will always be warm between them. When one dies, a cold fills the space one’s soul mate left within. The cold will one day kill the soul mate remaining. Mates meet again in the Dust.

“Rest my love, we will dance when you have regained your strength.”

* * *

Damen makes good on his promise, humming along with Laurent and dancing for hours. Laurent would have danced longer, mind and body lost to time, but Damen is not a Pixie and cannot dance at the lengths Laurent can—and will if allowed.

Laurent has expended most of his magic, and Damen has grown weak without food, so Laurent is left to rest on their bed while Damen is gone hunting.

Laurent digs out all his dirty shinies, and they all give valiant efforts to shiny in his light. Courting gifts. Damen had mentioned that an Arachne may bring gifts to a chosen mate. Laurent returned that gift by giving Damen one of the ribbons he’d brought, hadn’t he?

Laurent smiles to himself, pleased with the outcome. He rolls onto his back, used to his nubs digging into the ground, and pets at his chest, warm with his mate’s soul, his life.

He wishes Auguste could have seen it. Auguste’s Dust had been golden too. So had their mother’s. He didn’t know what colors Damen’s would be, given he isn’t a Pixie, but it being gold too must mean the Dust was pleased with the match, right? What else could it mean?

Sorrow fills Laurent suddenly. He doubts he will ever return to his people now. He’s made his choice, and he chose Damen. But that does not mean he will not and does not miss his brother.

He wonders if Auguste would have liked Damen. Auguste never expressed open dislike for the Arachne, but that does not mean there is none. But his brother has always been an advocate for peace, or civility if peace cannot be had.

His brother expressed to him that after having fought in the war against the Fairies, he never wished for war again. So many creatures meant to live forever cut down in their prime. So many bodies burned, and so many Pixies returned to the Dust.

The field had shown rainbow dust, and then the dust faded gray. Auguste said it would haunt his dreams sometimes.

Laurent thinks back to how his mother was treated by their people; a lone Fairy in a sea and animosity and distrust. Sick and with Halfer children. A husband who had grown to love her, but the love was weak and distant. A mating of alliance. The Dust had not been pleased. Their mother suffered for it. Withered before their eyes.

The only doctors willing to care for her were not kind, except one. Paschal had been named Laurent and Auguste's personal physician by their mother for his kindness. Laurent had expressed his thanks to the man more times than not. Auguste had not shown many signs of their mother’s fragility. Laurent had not had the same ease.

His wings took longer to grow than Auguste’s had, and it had not been an easy growth, not that there are many Halfers to base their experiences off of. Auguste and Laurent both had very thin wings, and it took a lot of effort for them to get into the air. Once they learned to fly it became easier. For a long time they had to be flown around by a special seat their mother had their father commission that servants carried them on.

Pixie babes were born with their wings, Fairies grew theirs as they matured. As Halfers their wings had grown while they were young, and it was a painful experience. Their mother explained that growing wings wasn’t for Pixies, and Fairy skin had a slit for their wings to grow through. Auguste and Laurent had no such slit.

Their mother reached a point she could no longer leave her bed, and Paschal had to be moved across the hall from the King and Queen’s rooms to be at her beck and call.

The Dust is not to be trifled with mating of alliance, only love. Those who play with mating as his parents had are punished. He wonders if his parents knew there would be a penalty, or if they had been the first to bring forth the Dust’s wrath.

If that were the case, he wonders how they knew the Dust was angry.

The Dust hadn’t shown any signs of anger between Laurent and Damen’s mating. But just because the Dust approved does not mean that his people will be so accepting. In fact, they have become quick to judge outsiders after the war. It has jaded his people. They were more than pleased when Auguste had found love in Kashel. Her Dust had been maroon.

Laurent would like to think Auguste and Damen would get along. He can picture them talking and joking together, with Laurent curled up at Damen’s side, content with whatever book he would be reading at the time. He and Auguste share many traits. If no one else would be pleased with their union, Auguste would be. He’s always wanted Laurent to be happy, as he and Kashel are. Laurent has found that.

Laurent gathers his shinies and buries them back into their hole, safe.

Laurent shivers and curls onto his side, missing Damen.

* * *

Laurent paces the burrow, his fingers dancing between each other and his lip worried by his teeth. Damen has been gone for a lot longer than usual. Laurent knew he had grown weak from the mating, it evidently took a lot out of him, but Laurent hadn’t considered he may get hurt while hunting; he never has before.

Laurent had tried moving the rock covering the entrance to go look for Damen, but it hadn’t budged.

His chest is still warm, hot under his skin. Damen is alive, but he could be injured and unable to return home and Laurent would not know. The cold does not come until after death.

Laurent feels sick.

He’d tried calling out, but the rock and dirt are so thick around him he doubts his voice made it out to even be heard.

He twirls the trail of ribbon around his fingers.

Laurent hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since the night Damen left, and that is an added worry made noted by his angry stomach and dry throat, but it comes second to his growing anxiety.

The only assurance he has, for what it’s worth, is the warmth. Damen may be dying, but he is not dead. If he is dying, maybe his brother, the one who had first attacked Laurent, will help him. Laurent pales at an unpleasant thought: his brother may finish him off and take over Damen’s newly freed territory.

Laurent pulls his hair and takes deep breaths. He may be breathing too quickly, because it isn’t helping, he only feels dizzy, but he can’t stop now that he’s started. His nubs won’t stop twitching, and an ache is settling in his back because of it.

Laurent falls to his knees, his eyes wet, his fingers digging into the dirt floor beneath him, and begs the Dust to return Damen to him. Begs for his mate to be well. Begs for his other half to be safe. They just found each other, they just became one, they can’t be separated already.

Laurent claws a hand into his heaving chest, dirty nails leaving red welts across his pale flesh.

There’s a noise at the entrance, and the first light of the sun Laurent has seen in…a very long time, shines into their home. Laurent’s breath is caught in his throat. Damen comes down the tunnel, and Laurent is on his feet and grabbing Damen as fast as he can. Damen’s arms come around him just as fast.

“I-I was so worried…” Laurent hiccoughs into Damen’s chest.

“You’re shaking,” Damen says, surprised, rubbing his hands up and down Laurent’s arms. He walks Laurent backwards, slow so Laurent doesn’t trip. He helps Laurent to sit on their bed then runs to close their entrance back.

Damen returns quickly, taking Laurent into his arms without prompting. “You were gone for so long,” Laurent tells him, like Damen doesn’t know how long he was gone. “You’ve never been gone that long.” His fingers are fists in Damen’s fur.

“I tried to return as quickly as I could Laurent, but there were things I needed to collect.”

Laurent shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was scared. I’m sorry.” He never should have worried. He shouldn’t have gotten himself so worked up. “I’m sorry.” He rubs a hand down his cheek and gives a watery laugh. “I can’t stop crying.”

Damen tells him he has no reason to be sorry, and rocks him until he can get his breathing back under control. Tears have dried in his eyes and on his cheeks, and by the time he has calmed himself, he is tired and drained.

But he has Damen back.

Damen is running his fingers through Laurent’s hair, careful of tangles. “Are you feeling better?”

Laurent nods. Damen brings a hand to Laurent’s chest, and the touch stings, but Laurent does not flinch. He hums at the scratches and presses his lips to the top of Laurent’s head, wrapping his arm back around Laurent.

“I brought food and water, if you are up to eating. I could feed you if you are too tired.”

Laurent nods. “I can feed myself. Thank you for offering Damen.”

“There is no need to thank me. I should have left more for you before I went out, and that is my fault. I swear to you it will not happen again,” Damen promises, petting Laurent’s hair.

Damen stands and only then does Laurent notice the white ball-like things strapped to Damen’s legs. He reaches out to touch one while Damen fiddles with another. They feel like Damen’s silk, and slightly sticky.

Damen holds one out to Laurent. “It is water, don’t fret, I wrapped the silk around fresh leaves. They are clean and so is the water.”

Laurent takes the silkie container of water and sips. His raw throat does not care for the first few passes of water, but it is eventually soothed and he continues drinking until at least half the container is gone. Damen smiles as he takes it back and exchanges it with another. There are berries in this one, a mix of blackberries, blueberries, and wild strawberries.

Laurent eats them, but is more curious about why Damen has all this attached to his legs.

Damen does not share, only smiles as Laurent returns the container back and re-straps it to his leg. “Rest.”

Laurent does not ask, sure that Damen will tell him in time, and curls up in Damen’s arms.

* * *

Laurent is munching on berries when Damen finally tells him why he has so much fruit and water with him. “I am taking you home.”

Laurent, unprepared for such an answer, chokes on a blueberry. Damen’s grin drops in favor of worry as Laurent starts coughing to get the berry from slipping into his airway.

Laurent is hunched over and barely free of the berry when he croaks, “What?”

Damen’s smile, hesitant, returns, smaller than before, doubt creeping into his eyes. “You miss your brother. He is dear to you. I am taking you home. He and your people will either accept us, or you can see your brother for a time and then we can return home…If you choose to return home with me.”

Laurent steps up to Damen and takes his hands. “ _You_ are dear to me. I will not leave you, no matter the outcome. If they will not have you, I will not have them. I chose you Damen, knowing full well what that meant and what I would be giving up by doing so.” He cups Damen’s cheek, petting his fur with his thumb. “I have gained so much more in return. We do not need to do this.”

Damen nods. He insists, “We do. You will think on your brother forever and wonder if it could have been different, if he thinks you dead and mourns, if he would have taken us both into his kingdom, or if he would have banished us to never return. The thoughts consume you now; I have seen them lurking in your mind through your eyes. You think too much. Don't think.”

Laurent had thought those things. He had dared not hope to return to his kingdom, people, and brother, but he thought. And Damen had been thoughtful enough to give him closure. Either his brother will accept them both, or he would bid them farewell. He would think his brother would not wish harm upon them, if only for Laurent’s sake.

“Okay Damen. We will go.”

Damen smiles wide again, excited.

Laurent chuckles at his behavior. “Let me gather my things.”

“Things?”

Laurent falls to his knees by his dirt pile and digs out all his dirty shinies. He cups them carefully into his hands, delicate with them for their sake, but also aware of the pointy pieces some of them have.

When he turns, Damen is shocked. “You kept them.”

Laurent’s fingers twitch to cover the shinies. His shinies. But Damen had freely given them to Laurent; he didn’t want them. They are safe from Damen. “Yes. They are beautiful.”

Damen seems both surprised and pleased by this, if a little bewildered. “Why did you bury them?”

“To keep them safe.”

Damen does not question him further, but he is smiling. He gathers some dry leaves and wraps them in silk. It is a quick process, but, with a glance to Damen’s wrapped legs, he’s had time to get it right. He offers it out to Laurent, where there is an opening at the top and Laurent drops them in one after the other. When they are all safely tucked inside, Damen takes a thin piece of silk and stretches it over the opening to seal it closed.

Damen wraps it around his leg too.

“We cannot go now.” Laurent stops Damen from heading back to the tunnel to leave. He looks back at Laurent with confusion. “We cannot go in the daylight, you cannot see. And if we go at night, I will make us a walking beacon. I need to be able to shrink and make us less obvious.”

Damen nods, thoughtful. “Tonight then?”

Laurent isn’t sure. It has never required much of him to alter his size, but he has sustained a grievous injury and used a lot of magic to mate Damen.

There is truly only one way to find out.

Laurent wills himself smaller, to his usual size, the smallest he can go. He doesn’t get that small. He’s still as high as Damen’s legs, a little less than half his full size. Frustration fills him quickly all the same. Laurent huffs a breath and closes his eyes, determined to try again.

He barely shrinks an inch.

Laurent folds arms, and Damen’s smiling face doesn’t make him any happier. “I’m working on it,” he snaps.

Damen nods, his smile growing, a laugh on his lips.

Laurent points a warning finger at Damen. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

Damen places his hand over his mouth, squeezing his cheeks for a second then removes his hand, his smile more subdued though no less pleased. “I’m sorry, truly. But your voice has grown pitched and it…is amusing.”

Laurent feels indignant. “My voice is not _pitched_. It sounds the same as it always does.” And it does. He sounds no different than when he was almost Damen’s height.

Damen shakes his head, smiling still, the big spider, and picks Laurent up into his arms, like he always does and presses his lips to Laurent’s head. Laurent feels calmer already, comfy in Damen strong, fluffy arms. He’s forgiven.

“You can try again before we leave. For now, rest.”

* * *

“I thinks that’s as good as it’s going to get for now Damen.”

Laurent isn’t his usual height, but he is just inches shy. He is able to hide in Damen’s fur well enough when Damen picks him up and places Laurent on his back. Resting, however, did help and he was able to get to this size more easily. If he doesn’t use his magic for a few days he should be able to change his size without problem soon.

He may have also been a little rusty with his magic. But Damen doesn’t need to know that.

Being closer to his normal size again is also allowing him to restore his magic quicker. Trying to fill all his magic into that gigantic body was slowing how quickly he was able to gain it all back, it also expelled it quicker.

Laurent grips Damen’s fur between his little fists and Damen makes his way to their burrow’s entrance. They may never come back here, if Auguste and his people welcome Damen into their home, so Laurent takes a silent moment to mourn for the place he has called home with Damen the last few months.

Sadness chokes him for a moment, clouding his thoughts. His stay in this burrow may not have started off with pleasant memories, but they grew into some of the best of his long lifetime. This is where he met his truelove, where he gained his soul mate. It will always hold a special place in his heart, whether they return or not.

To combat the melancholy, he turns his mind to happier thoughts. He’ll be seeing his brother soon. It hasn’t been so long since they were last together, but his brother not being there for some rather important events in Laurent’s life has made the time seem longer.

Auguste, whether he acknowledges Damen or not, will likely fret over Laurent’s wings being gone. Returned to the Dust as the rest of him one day will.

Damen covers their home’s hole, and rests his hands on the rock for a few moments, clearly as overwhelmed by the goodbye as Laurent had been, except this was Damen’s home for far longer, and he had more to miss for that alone.

Laurent turns to the sky, and the leaves on the trees are growing yellow at their bases, slowly giving to death as the season changes. The wind blows then, biting at his bare body. Laurent curls farther into Damen’s fur, forcing himself to shrink smaller, and it works. He’s closer to his height still, but he needs to reserve what he has left; if there is any left after he forced himself smaller.

“Are you holding on?”

“Yes.”

“Off we go then.”

And they do. But not like Laurent expects. He expects Damen to take off like a racing stallion, front legs kicked up and then rearing off into the dark distance. But he only begins to walk in the direction Laurent directs. Lackluster, but effective all the same.

Laurent doesn’t know the way home from Damen’s burrow, so Laurent tells him to head to the beach, and from their they will follow the shore back to where Laurent was last with his company and from there, Arles.

Damen’s big body walks between the trees with ease, and he doesn’t need to be constantly vigil of his surroundings with Laurent there to help keep guard for danger. And being the biggest predator in this forest isn’t exactly a hindrance either.

Laurent however is mostly watching out for Damen’s brother. Damen had warned him before that his brother stalks the area, that he and Damen would compete for the same female during mating season and that she would often chose Damen over him, but not before leading them both on at her leisure.

Damen had taken Laurent this season, so likely his brother got the female Arachne with no competition. He shouldn’t be lurking about, but there is no guarantee that he wouldn’t be, out of spite if nothing else.

Damen was born an only child; Laurent had asked how he knew that this Arachne was his brother. Damen explained that it was a scent thing, to keep from mating an Arachne who had too close blood ties to breed healthy children. Laurent understood, mostly, and had accepted the answer.

But they make it to the shore unhindered. The moon is still out, but the sky is lightening behind it. Damen will need to rest soon. Damen’s steps are weak under the loose sand, and he makes his way over to a large boulder near the water that Laurent doesn’t remember seeing before. They’re farther down the shore than he thought.

Damen climbs to the top of the boulder and sits. He twists to look down at Laurent sitting on his back, hiding in his fur. He smiles. “Should we keep going? Do you know which way?”

Laurent does, actually. “Rest for now. We can continue in the evening.”

Damen’s smile softens and he leans his body forward, curling his arms together to rest his head comfortably. His eyes stay open, as they always do because he does not truly sleep, and Laurent sees about climbing off him and taking a look around at their surroundings.

Laurent is small enough and light enough he does not worry about pulling Damen’s fur and hurting him, so he holds chunks as he climbs down his side and steps off onto the rock. It’s colder out here than in the forest, the breeze stronger. Laurent wraps his arms around himself and makes the long trek around Damen’s body. He keeps close to Damen though, to keep whatever heat falls off Damen on himself.

He stares out, looking down the shore one way, then turning to face the other. Both ends are as empty and unending as one another, this sole boulder the only break in the shoreline. The sun has started to creep over the horizon, which provides Laurent with better sight, but nothing has changed since the last time he looked.

They’ll be going left, because when Laurent had followed after the horse herd, the forest had been to his right. And should they need to return, they’ll come back this way until they see this boulder again.

Damen shifts behind him, a groan leaving his lips. The sun has risen, high above their heads, and Laurent feels fatigue clawing at him, so he assumes the sun is hurting Damen’s eyes. He climbs up Damen, walks along his back, even farther, until he’s standing on Damen’s head. He lays himself out on his stomach, spreading his limbs wide across the spans of fur, and sighs.

Damen has his head buried in his arms, all eyes hidden from the sun. His fur has grown warm from the sunlight and it helps lull Laurent in his lazy state. He spares a moment to worry about sunburns before he falls asleep.

* * *

Laurent is sweating. And it’s dark. Laurent opens his eyes when a puff of breath hits him. The only light in the area is coming off of him, but Laurent can tell immediately that he’s on Damen still, though now he’s resting in his hand, not on his head. He’s tucked in Damen’s arms beside his head. Laurent reaches out for the big face in front of him and places his hand on Damen’s nose, worry consuming him. Damen’s eyes aren’t made for so much light, he must be hurting a great deal. Laurent can’t figure out why Damen had moved him from his head. Damen smiles and pulls his head back, lifting Laurent with him.

The sky is dark, the moon barely a crescent, but enough for them to be able to travel.

Damen reaches around and places Laurent onto his back again. He reaches down and he and Laurent eat some of the food he has collected around his legs. Laurent needs no more than a berry before he’s full to burst, and he can’t see, but he’s pretty sure Damen is slurping at a small animal.

Damen makes a funny face when Laurent cups a small bead of water into his hands to drink. Laurent thinks he wants to laugh.

“Which way now?”

Laurent curls into the fur, still sleepy but waking up. “Left. It looks like nothing for miles though, so when the sun rises again, we may need to find shelter in the forest.”

Damen nods and their journey continues.

The sand makes the walk rough, but Damen makes good time, Laurent supposes. He can’t see the boulder anymore by the time the sun rises again. But he was right about one thing: there is nothing along the shore for Damen to sleep on other than sand. So they make their way into the forest.

Damen doesn’t go far in, and he walks up to one of the tall, thick trees. “Hold on tight. I don’t want you to fall.”

“Wha—ahh!”

Damen starts climbing up the tree, and Laurent is gripping onto his fur for dear life, his body hanging parallel to Damen’s. Damen doesn’t sit on one of the fatter, lower hanging branches, he climbs until he’s near the top and rests himself on a cluster of branches that can, all together, manage to hold his weight.

Laurent is a ball of nerves by the time they’re at the top.

Laurent would say sleeping at the top of a tree is a work of genius, but he isn’t feeling very charitable with his complements after worrying about falling to his death. Damen takes him in hand though, and curls Laurent close while Laurent calms his racing heart.

The leaves still in the trees at least gives them some coverage so no randomly passing humans can catch a glimpse of this terrible creature lurking above them. Not that Damen is a terrible creature, but humans do not like what they do not understand. They don’t like spiders as it is; they’d send a mob after Damen. A surge of protectiveness for Damen rocks through him. He’d keep all those foolish, weak humans away.

Once they’re closer to Laurent’s kingdom, they’ll be safe from humans once more. Humans do not venture into the Pixie kingdom, and those few children brave enough to dare are led elsewhere by the guards.

* * *

Their next few days follow much the same pattern. They walk all night, they sleep in the trees during the day, they eat after they wake, they continue their journey. Laurent is sure they’re nearing home now, because he recognizes this area as where the herd of horses comes to visit the shore.

“We’re almost there Damen!”

He’s sitting on Damen’s head, but leans over to look into one of his side facing eyes, smiling wide. Damen smiles back.

It’s taken longer to get home than when he got lost, partly because Laurent had flown and partly because Damen has walked the whole way, so he could make his energy last consistently throughout the day. It’s smart, but Laurent has grown bored and impatient as the days have dragged on. Damen has been the only thing to make this trip more bearable, and even he grows sluggish by the night’s end.

Laurent wishes he could make the trip easier on Damen, but he can do nothing more than help keep watch and make conversation with him. And that isn’t much at all at this point. The shore has only one predator walking along it and what they need to be discussing is their future, but it is too uncertain at this point to discuss.

They wander a little further along, the beach growing light with the coming sun. They’re so close now, Laurent can already feel Auguste’s arms around him, welcoming him home. But—Laurent looks down. Damen’s pace has grown sluggish, and sleep is clearly tugging at him.

Laurent can wait another day, Damen cannot. He pats Damen’s forehead. “Hey, how about we call it an early morning and start fresh tonight?”

Damen tilts his head up, then lifts his hand for Laurent to crawl onto. He can see Laurent better this way. “Are you sure? You said we were close.”

Laurent shakes his head, resolute. “We are, but it can wait. We can start again after we sleep. You’re clearly too tired to keep up much longer.” He smiles at Damen and cups his big, furry cheek. “It’s okay. I want you well rested more than I want to be back at Arles.”

“What about your brother?”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs. “Just climb up a tree so we can go to sleep.”

Damen gives him a side-eyed look, his lips pursed. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“What?!”

Damen nods and starts walking towards the tree line. “That’s it, isn’t it? Trying to play it off like it’s me, when really you just want to cuddle into my fur and sleep.”

Laurent laughs again and Damen smiles, pleased. Laurent sighs, smile still on his lips. His chest is warm and he feels light enough to fly. He’s happy.

Damen climbs a sturdy tree just passed the tree line so the sunlight doesn’t blind him all day, but they don’t have far to go to get back to the shore.

Laurent doesn’t argue when Damen places him on his shoulder, and Laurent curls up and places his head into the bend on Damen’s nape.

* * *

“Turn left here.”

“You sure I’m not supposed to go right?”

Laurent looks over at the waves crashing into the sand, sparkling in the moonlit. “If you want to go that way, that’s your prerogative. I’m going left.”

Damen laughs and turns left, into the trees. They’re finally about to be in the borders of Vere. He’s going to see Auguste soon.

They wander through the trees for a while, Laurent occasionally giving directions based on the landmarks he learned when he was still very young but finally old enough to venture off from the barrow.

They’re making some decent headway before they finally run into the border guards on patrol that evening.

Two Pixies grow in size and point their swords into Damen’s face, vicious looks twinning on their faces. “Halt! Tell us why we should not slay you on sight, fur-face.”

Damen holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender and takes a step back. Laurent knows this is where he comes in so he quickly crawls down Damen’s side and drops to the forest floor, lucky to have only sent a shock from his feet up his spine at the impact, but no real damage.

He grows quickly, and makes it to his full height without issue, thankfully. He steps in front of Damen, the blades now at his own throat.

“Stop. Lay down your blades.”

They need only see his face for their own to go white. Their blades are lowered quickly, then they both fall to their knee before him. “Prince Laurent,” they both say.

One rises quickly, a muttered, “The king will wish to know immediately,” before flying off to the barrow to rouse Auguste from his slumber.

The other rises as well, watching Damen over Laurent’s shoulder, his hand resting on his blade. “My prince.”

“Escort me to the palace.”

The guard bows at the waist and without a word of protest, leads Laurent and Damen where they wish to go.

Damen is still trailing behind, watching Laurent for ques, and occasionally Laurent will flash a reassuring smile over his shoulder for him. Damen always returns them.

By the time they make the walk back to the palace, with the guard flying shortly in front of them, the sun has started to peak over the horizon and through the tree trunks.

Arles is just how he remembers it, though only being gone a few months wouldn’t have changed things as drastically as he expects it to. Thick, hallowed out trees sit in a circle, kept alive by magic, their leaves the only discernible change about them, with the large barrow of King Aleron at their center. Many Pixie kings have been named after the dead human that lay at rest in their home, such as Laurent’s father, each for their own reasons, though likely none have to do with respect. A forgotten king left to rot in the forest by their people? Clearly not a very well respected or loved king.

The sapphire starburst sitting over it’s top is the only sigh that someone cared for their king at some point. It sits in the middle, and has been the insignia of the Veretian Pixies since as long as recorded history.

The guards watching at the entrance to the barrow for their arrival nod the border guard away to return to his duties, along with his partner for the evening. Jord and Lazar stand before him now, their armor shining off Laurent’s light and undoubtedly blinding Damen.

Auguste grows as he comes flying out of the very top of the tallest tree, covering more space by doing that than if he had stayed his true height. Laurent smiles at him, and then groans as his brother’s weight crashes into him, then squeezes.

“Laurent!” Auguste cries. “I’ve been so worried about you. I thought—” he stops himself, pulling back and giving a watery smile. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. What matters is…that…”

Auguste has finally noticed Damen behind him. Laurent, with dread filling his gut, doesn’t think he’s being received well.

Laurent is suddenly shoved behind Auguste and Auguste is ripping a sword out of Jord’s scabbard. That is the third sword thrust into Damen’s face tonight. He ignores Laurent’s protests behind him. “Who are you?”

Damen opens his mouth to reply when Jord and Lazar gasp loudly behind them. Auguste turns, his sword still to Damen’s throat, to see what has caused his soldiers to react so strangely.

Laurent knows what could bring horror to such hardened men.

Auguste notices this time, like he hadn’t the first. Laurent is on the ground, no beautiful wings beating behind him. His eyes widen. He doesn’t need Laurent to turn for proof because Jord and Lazar have confirmed the lack enough.

His face turns to thunder.

Auguste shouts as he swings at Damen. “What have you done?!”

“Auguste!”

Damen manages to step away in time, but he is on the defense, waiting to dodge another strike. Laurent races in between Damen and Auguste before he can hurt Damen. Laurent throws himself into Damen’s arms as Auguste is lifting the sword high above his head.

“Auguste stop!”

Damen catches Laurent and turns them both so Damen will take the coming blow. Laurent is scared. Damen could die from this. His hands are fists in Damen’s fur, and he’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

The sword never hits. After a few moments Damen turns his head, taking a look over at Auguste. Laurent is tucked into his chest, his face pressed into Damen’s fur, all his weight in Damen’s arms from how he’d been twisted on his feet.

Damen doesn’t turn, keeping his body between Laurent and Auguste’s sword, but he lets Laurent peek over his shoulder at Auguste.

The sword is loose in his hand, and his shoulders are sagging. He looks sad and confused, tears rolling down his face. “Laurent?”

Laurent gets his feet righted under him and hugs Damen’s shoulders. He’s gotten the message. Damen isn’t welcome here.

“ _Laurent?_ ”

Damen’s arms hesitate around his waist, unsure if he should let him go or hold him closer. Laurent smiles, assuring him. Laurent is no more sure of what will happen than Damen is. The sun is rising though, and Damen’s sight will be very poor very soon. He’s also going to be tired after another full night of walking.

Auguste had kept his dislike for Arachne very well hidden from Laurent if he made it so Laurent believed Damen even had a chance here.

Damen trails a hand up to Laurent’s chest, adding his body heat to the warmth there. He’s smiling down at Laurent, his eyes soft. Laurent places his hand on Damen’s chest as well, trying to smile back. His brother rejecting them hurts though.

“Talk to him.” Damen’s voice is low, kept between them.

Laurent shakes his head, voice just as low. “We should just leave.”

“You’ll regret leaving things like this.”

Laurent hates when he’s right. He casts his eyes over to Auguste, still flying by them and looking lost and defeated.

Laurent lowers his eyes, to the twin ribbons around his and Damen’s wrists. He’ll say goodbye to Auguste, and then it will be just him and Damen and their small, intimate little burrow.

Laurent steps away from Damen, watching his smile for one more moment before turning to Auguste and walking up to him. He has to look up at Auguste, more so than before because now Auguste is the only one who can fly.

Auguste floats lower still, toes touching the leaves on the forest floor. He grips the sword tighter in his fist, more self-conscious than angry. “Laurent,” he croaks. His hand comes up and caresses Laurent’s cheek. Gentle, like Laurent will break under his touch. Laurent folds his arms around himself.

“I love him Auguste.” It’s not where he wants to start, but it feels the most important. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

Auguste’s brows draw together. “What has he done to you?”

Laurent shakes his head. Auguste isn’t hearing him, doesn’t understand. “I was attacked and Damen saved me. He nursed me back to health, and he helped me learn to walk, and he brought me home so I could—so I could see you again,” Laurent chokes out, throat thick with emotion.

“You can’t love him Laurent,” Auguste argues, desperate. “You just think you love him. He saved you and you’re grateful but that isn’t love.”

“I do love him Auguste!” Laurent feels frustrated. “I know what love is, and I know how I feel for him.”

“He’s deceiving you Laurent.”

“He would never.”

“Laurent you’re too young to—”

“We’re mated!” Laurent finally shouts. The silence that follows is deafening. Laurent is feeling defiant though, and he refuses to be treated like a child. “We’re mated, and you can either accept that and accept him, or we’re leaving and this is goodbye.”

Laurent stands his ground, and Damen comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Laurent’s waist and resting his head on top of Laurent’s. Laurent covers Damen’s hands with his own.

Auguste looks pale even in his golden glow. “You swore to the Dust?” His voice is barely a whisper.

Laurent nods; he closes his eyes and smiles at the memory, the warmth in his chest. “It was beautiful. I wish you could have seen it Auguste.”

Auguste doesn’t respond, and Laurent is scared to open his eyes when he feels Damen’s arms tensing and tighten around him. He opens them anyway, and sees that Auguste is looking at Damen, and he looks furious.

“Jord, Lazar, take Laurent to see Paschal about his wings. When he is seen to, take him to his rooms. He will wait there for me.”

It’s like a bucket of icy water has been poured over him. “No,” he breathes out, barely a whisper. When Jord and Lazar start coming towards him on the orders of their king, Damen is pulling him away.

Laurent is turning to run away with Damen when a puff of dust is thrown at him. He shrinks, and he can’t force himself to grow, because Auguste’s magic is drawn straight from the Dust as king, and Laurent is hopelessly overpowered.

“Damen!”

Damen is reaching down to grab Laurent when a sword is thrust into his face again. Auguste isn’t letting him go. Anger and sorrow war within Laurent’s small body and he cannot stop himself from collapsing to his knees as he watches Auguste swing at Damen to scare him off.

Laurent can’t breathe past the overwhelming emotions fighting to take over. Lazar and Jord have no trouble lifting him, even at their normal heights, and flying him off into the largest hallow tree to see Paschal. Laurent is helpless to watch Damen try to talk Auguste down. To live.

* * *

Laurent is sitting on a bed, Paschal humming behind him as he examines Laurent’s wing nubs. Jord and Lazar guard the door. They were his guards before he left and they are his guards now, but they have orders from their king and that overrides any orders Laurent may give. Laurent scowls at their sympathetic faces.

“They seemed to have healed well, considering,” Paschal finally says, straightening and flying around to talk to Laurent. He doesn’t bother to mention that if they haven’t grown back by now then they won’t at all. “They’re a little uneven, but not enough that I would suggest cutting a piece off to fix the problem.”

Laurent nods and looks away from Paschal’s smile.

“How are your legs?”

Laurent kicks his feet a little, curls his toes. “Damen helped me learn to walk again; it took a few weeks, but…” Laurent lifts his legs and wiggles his toes for emphasis.

Paschal nods. “I don’t think there’s anything more I can do for you, Your Highness. Though I will recommend to the king that another seat be made so you have a suitable mode of transportation around the barrow.”

It’s Laurent’s turn to nod. He stands and Jord and Lazar lead him to his room, lifting him by his arms to fly him where he cannot.

They sit him on his feet when they reach the royal wing, hallowed out branches made into rooms. Laurent walks and they fly beside him. There are no Pixies here like through the rest of the tree. Laurent has already garnered a lot of attention, gasps and whispers following after him and haunting his every step.

Jord and Lazar stop in front of Laurent’s door, already guarded by Orlant and Huet. They look stoic as ever, and are wise enough not to meet his eyes. Laurent is in no mood for anything they may try and say in his brother’s defense. In his _king’s_ defense.

Laurent’s only assurance that Damen is alive is the warmth in his chest. Auguste would not kill Damen knowing it would take Laurent with him. He’d run Damen off and station more guards to make sure he did not return. And he’d keep Laurent under lock and key to make sure Laurent did not escape and go looking for him.

His guards salute and move aside to allow Laurent entry.

Laurent gasps at who stands before him.

Damen smiles and opens his arms wide. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Laurent laughs and walks into his arms, feeling too weak kneed to run. “What are you doing here?”

“I talked to your brother.”

“And he let you up here?”

“No, he tried to cut my legs off. But he eventually calmed down, and we spoke, and he was understanding.”

Laurent smiles, warm in his chest and in Damen’s arms, relief hot in his veins. They stay in each other’s arms for a long time, uninterrupted and content to stay as they are. Damen must be exhausted.

Laurent sighs, happy. “You’re tiny.”

Damen throws his head back and laughs. He pets his hand down Laurent’s hair. “Your brother threw some dust at me and then carried me over to the tree. He flew beside me and showed me which room to enter. He said he didn’t want to cause unrest within the palace so soon after your return; and with the shock of your injury, they would need time to adjust.”

That sounds more like Auguste.

Laurent smiles. “I can’t believe you’re here. I was so worried about you.”

Damen holds him ever closer. Damen’s voice is rough as he says, “I was worried for you as well.”

“Ah, I see you beat me back.”

Laurent turns in Damen’s arms to see Auguste flying into his room, lower to the ground than Laurent is used to him being. The king must always be higher than all others; Pixies tend the lower themselves for Auguste. He stops shy of Laurent.

“I—I am sorry, for how I reacted and what I said,” he starts. His wings are beautiful as they beat behind him, slower than a Pixies but fast enough to keep him up. Their mother’s wings had beat slow and purposeful, until she couldn’t fly anymore. “I can see now the love between you is strong and true. I am sorry to have missed your joining.”

It's an olive branch, a peace offering at its heart, but it stirs Laurent anyway. He steps out of Damen’s arms and into Auguste’s. This was the reunion he wanted between them, not the ugly battle that took place outside the palace.

“His Dust is gold.”

“Really?”

Laurent can hear the surprise in Auguste’s voice. Laurent nods. “It was beautiful.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.”

“Me too.” Laurent grins. “We danced afterwards. It was all very…” Laurent blushes and is very glad his brother cannot see it. “Intimate.”

Auguste grips Laurent’s shoulders and pulls out of the hug anyway and sees the bright shade Laurent’s face has undoubtably turned. He scrutinizes Laurent from head to toe, then looks Damen over, then back to Laurent. Laurent can see the moment he realizes.

Auguste’s eyes go wide and Laurent did not think his face could get any hotter than it already was but is quickly proven wrong. “Nooo,” he says, disbelieving. Then he smirks. “You didn’t.”

Laurent nods, completely mortified.

Auguste laughs. “My little Laurent is all grown up now!”

Laurent shoves Auguste away and goes back to Damen’s awaiting arms. Damen clicks something down at him, probably without thinking, and presses his lips to Laurent’s head.

“I love you too.”


End file.
